


The Other Side of a World Without You

by MachaSWicket



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Season/Series 07 Spoilers, season finale spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 16:53:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18832759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MachaSWicket/pseuds/MachaSWicket
Summary: SUMMARY: Arrow S7 finale SPOILERS ahead. Beware!





	The Other Side of a World Without You

**Author's Note:**

> Note: this is very lightly edited, so apologies in advance for any errors or extreme sappiness herein. ;)

 

 

Oliver measures the passage of time by the greying of his hair. 

The Monitor’s mountainside retreat is part of the multiverse, but time moves differently here, or maybe not at all. Though the landscape around them looks passably like earth, Oliver is aware that “day” and “night” here are constructs meant to make this strange place feel less alien to the collection of humans fighting for the survival of the multiverse.

Nothing is what he expected when he left his family -- it’s been ages of fighting and then falling back to this odd retreat, strategizing, and then fighting again. The Monitor told him he’d die in this fight, and Oliver had simply assumed he’d be facing a short, brutal campaign, ending in the kind of sacrifice he’s spent years ready, willing, and able to make. Especially to save the world.

_To save the multiverse._

He will  _gladly_  sacrifice his life to keep his family safe.  Even if it’s taking ages longer than he’d expected. Years and years of fighting, and missing Felicity, William, and Mia.

And  _God_ , does he miss them -- especially during the time in between, the endless  _waiting_  for another demon to slay while the Monitor gathers information and analyzes threats and strategizes their next battle.

Still, nothing could be more important, and Oliver won’t let himself regret his choices. Memories of his son, of his baby daughter, of his wife -- they are as vivid as the day he left. He can see Felicity’s face so clearly, he can hear Mia’s angry newborn cries, and he can feel that last hug with William in their old apartment with an eerie clarity.

It’s the sweetest torture he’s ever experienced.

He often wonders what his baby girl’s first word was, and what her favorite subject was in school. Sometimes he tries to picture what William looks like now that he’s a grown man, and if he could ever forgive Oliver for his failures as a father. He wonders whether Felicity misses him as much as he misses her, like a physical ache that never really goes away. 

He just learns to move carefully around the space his family occupies in his soul. 

They keep him company in his memories and his imagination while he rests, while he recovers, while he  _waits_  in this strange place out of time. 

It’s been weeks since their last attempt to fix the multiverse, and Oliver is going a bit stir crazy. Training didn’t tire him out enough, and his meditation only  _mostly_  calmed the restlessness. Underneath it all, though, Oliver is lonely. There are others here, people he considers friends, but he keeps mostly to himself when he’s feeling fragile like this.

The balcony is his quiet space. It overlooks the unearthly tall, jagged mountains that guard the Monitor’s retreat, offering spectacular (if manufactured) “sunsets” each evening. Oliver is watching the pink streaks on the horizon fade into purple when he hears footsteps. It’s not unusual for him to be invited to join others for dinner, or even just for conversation, but Oliver knows with a sudden, paralyzing certainty that it’s  _her_.

He can’t move, can’t even breathe as he waits to be sure, to understand, to make sense of her presence here.

“Oliver Queen?” asks a voice he hasn’t heard in what feels like an eternity. Those achingly familiar footsteps draw closer. 

One hand pressed to the fierce ache in his chest, Oliver turns towards her.

“Hi,” she says, eyes sparkling with tears and a wide smile on those perfect pink lips, “I’m Felicity Smoak.”

She is stunning in the soft glow of sunset, and he takes in every last detail.  Her hair is shorter, with no trace of the soft waves he remembers. The laugh lines on her face are deeper, marking the years they’ve spent apart. And her fingernails are painted a fairly sedate pink. Oliver can only stare at her, mouth hanging, vision blurring from the tears he can’t control.

Felicity shifts, edging closer, her hands fluttering with her nerves. “You’re blowing your line, Oliver,” she chides, reaching for him so, so carefully, like she’s afraid he might flinch, or pull away. It’s her uncertainty that breaks through to him, that makes him realize that it’s  _really_  her standing before him.

 _It’s_   _really--_

“ _Felicity_ ,” he breathes.

And then he’s out of his chair and lunging for her, knocking her back a step with the ferocity of his hug. “Felicity,” he repeats as she laughs against his chest, her arms winding around him. He tightens his grip on her, curling himself into her body, the feel of which has haunted him for years. “Oh, my -- I have missed you  _every day_  for the last--”

“Twenty years,” she breathes. Her fingers dig into his shoulders, pressing as closely against him as she can. “Twenty years, seven months, and three or four days. I’m not quite sure how time works here?” she adds with a little laugh. “Which, actually, I have questions for you. Like where  _is_  here?”

Oliver presses his face to her neck, breathing her in. “Felicity.” He can’t manage much more than her name at this point, overwhelmed by gratitude and love and-- “ _How_  are you here?” he asks, suddenly concerned. “Are William and--”

“Mia are both fine,” she tells him, easing back just enough to make reassuring eye contact. He reads the truth in her face and takes a calming breath.

When her hands cradle his jaw, her thumbs wiping his tears away, he’s reminded of their last goodbye. “I promised, Oliver,” she says, holding his gaze with that fierce determination that has always defined her. “And I did my best. They’re both safe.”

Oliver nods, his palms sliding up and down her arms, reacquainting himself with the lines of her body. “I know you were the best mother they could have, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you through the tough times.”

She laughs a bit, in remembrance of the things he missed. “There were some of those,” she admits. “Mia is  _your_  child, after all.”

The weight of loneliness that has been with Oliver for years lifts a bit with each thing Felicity says, each tidbit about their time apart and their  _family_. “Incredibly smart like you,” he counters.

“Yeah,” she agrees with a smile. “And incredibly  _fearless_  like you.”

Oliver tries to picture it. “A fearless toddler sounds,” he shrugs, imagining a fierce little girl scaling furniture and hurling herself into space, “ _scary_.”

“You can’t even imagine,” Felicity agrees, then sobers as what she’s said registers. “Oliver, I didn’t mean--”

“I know,” Oliver interrupts her, his tone soft. He reaches out to take her hand in his and runs his thumb over the warm metal of her wedding ring in gratitude. “I imagined a thousand little moments over the years -- William’s graduation, Mia’s first word, William marrying a lovely--”

Felicity lifts her free hand. “Young man. Or,” she corrects, that familiar little wrinkle in her forehead, “it  _would be_  a young man if William were married, because William is gay. But he’s not.” She frowns a bit. “Married, I mean. He’s not  _married_.”

Oliver hugs her again, unable to process the warm joy he feels learning about his beloved family. “I can’t wait to hear  _everything_  about them,” he admits.

“Actually.” Felicity pulls a tiny metallic bit of tech from her coat pocket. “I brought pictures,” she tells him with a playful grin. “Like,  _a lot_  of pictures and some video.” She looks down for a moment at the tiny miracle in the palm of her hand. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to be there for the the big stuff,” she says, her voice wavering with emotion and that bottomless compassion in her eyes as she watches him. “But they’ve both grown into such amazing people. They’re both  _heroes_ , just like their father.”

Oliver shakes his head, overcome by all the emotions welling in his chest -- pride, relief, love, regret. “Just like their  _mother_ ,” he corrects. 

When she smiles up at him, he can’t wait another second to kiss her. She responds immediately, clutching at his biceps just like she’s done a thousand times before. 

This kiss, though -- It’s  _more_  than he remembers; it’s solace and love and warmth and coming home, and Oliver lets himself fall into it. His hands slide along her back, one cradling her head, the other holding her gently to him. He can taste her tears, or maybe his own, but he can’t stop kissing her. 

Felicity’s grip on him tightens, and she nips at his bottom lip, pulling a groan from him, and a desire to be as close as possible to her. His emotions shift, from the warmth of love to the heated passion of  _want_.

“I’ve  _missed_ you so much,” he mutters against her mouth.

Laughing at his eagerness, Felicity eases back. “Oliver,” she says, pausing to sniffle, just a bit, “I have loved you for  _decades_ , and I’ve been missing you for longer than I had you.” She has to pause to get her emotions under control, taking a slow, shaky breath. Then she bites her lip and waggles her eyebrows in a way that reminds him of a hundred playfully sexy moments from their life before. He knows the gist of what she’s about to say before she says it. “Can we take this reunion somewhere a little more private?”

Oliver lets his hand ride dangerously low on her back, flirting with the still-impressive curve of her ass. “ _Absolutely_ ,” he agrees. 

He’s got a thousand questions for her, including some concerns about her choice to join him here, where death awaits, but for now, for this moment, all he wants is some kind of future with her -- however brief.

So Oliver takes Felicity’s hand, and they step into an uncertain future. Together.

END

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, Arrow, for giving Emily (and, really, the show as it exists) a surprisingly satisfying ending.


End file.
